


Prove It

by heelnev



Series: Neville vs. the Holidays [5]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Carnival, M/M, Surprise Kissing, Teddy Bears, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 20:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/pseuds/heelnev
Summary: A backstage argument and a bet results in Neville going out on a Valentine’s Day date with his biggest rival.





	Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> Happy early Valentine's Day!! Here's some Boys

On a typical Tuesday night, three things were guaranteed -- Smackdown Live would air, 205 Live would air immediately afterwards, and Neville and Mustafa would get into an argument over something trivial.

This week, Neville was upset with the fact that he’d been left off of the 205 Live card. He had flown out to where the taping was taking place only to be told that not only was he not going to compete, but that Mustafa _was_ . In the main event, no less. _What did_ **_he_ ** _do to deserve a main event spot over_ **_me_ ** _?_ Neville grumbled to himself as he watched the show on the monitor, walking away once it was time for Mustafa’s match.

Never one to actually let things go and move on, Neville chose to take his frustrations out on the man himself once he returned to the locker room. To him, it didn’t matter if Mustafa had just finished a long match and was exhausted -- this was something that needed to be said, and no amount of excuses was going to stop him.

“I cannot understand _why_ they see more value in _you_ than they do in _me_ ,” Neville said, mid-way through his rant, Mustafa facing away from him as he packed up his bag on the other side of the room. “I have more talent and charisma in my little finger than you do in your entire body.”

“Is that so?” Mustafa didn’t sound too perturbed by Neville’s words -- if anything, he seemed amused. “Well, they didn’t choose me for no reason. Clearly I’m better than you in _some_ way.”

Neville scoffed. “Bah! Impossible. In what ways are you better?”

“Hmm…” Mustafa zipped up the bag, sitting down next to it on the bench. “Well, I think I’m more good looking.”

Neville’s mouth dropped open. “Are you trying to say that I’m ugly?”

“Never said that. I can admit that you’re a pretty attractive guy. It’s just… well, let’s put it this way -- I appear on 205 Live for a minute and there are hundreds of tweets about how handsome I am, meanwhile you can appear for way longer and most people will just be talking about your ears.”

“You--” Neville stopped himself, taking a deep breath. _Don’t let him get to you…_ Neville’s temper had caused him to be on the losing end of far too many arguments lately, and he was planning on stopping this trend in its tracks. “You realize that it’s this awful personality of yours that makes people dislike you, right?”

Mustafa snorted. “What? Since when did people not like me? And what’s so bad about my personality?”

“You’re just… obnoxious! There’s not a likeable thing about you.” It was as if a lightbulb went off in Neville’s head, and he smirked. “And that’s why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day next week, isn’t it? You’ve been turned down by everyone you ask.”

That wiped the smile off of Mustafa’s face. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re always telling the guys about how much you like Valentine’s Day,  but you haven’t managed to convince anyone to go out with you yet. I guess everyone’s figured out that you suck at dates.” He sucked his teeth. “Such a shame.”

“How do you know I suck at dates?”

“You _must_ if you haven’t impressed anyone enough to get them to date you.”

“Is that what you think?” Mustafa fell silent, thinking for a moment before continuing, “You wanna bet?”

Neville’s eyebrows raised. “A bet?”

“I bet you that I’m _great_ at dating. If I’m right, you leave me alone. If I’m wrong, then you have the right to mock me as much as you’d like.”

“Hmm… Such an enticing offer…” No one had ever actually given Neville permission to tease them before. This was an opportunity that he couldn’t pass up. There was no way he’d lose, right? “Alright, lad, you’ve got yourself a bet. You claim to be great at dates? Prove it.”

“I will.” Mustafa stood up, grabbing his bag. “So, what time works best for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“When should we go? Y’know, on our date.”

Neville froze. “Wait, _I_ have to go with you?!”

“Of course! What, did you think I was going to take someone else? You know all about how I’ve had no luck asking anyone out. Besides, how else am I going to prove it to you if you don’t come with me?”

“I--” Neville swallowed. He didn’t want to admit it, but Mustafa was right.

“Hey, when are you flying in for Raw next Monday? Early on Sunday, right?”

“Yes…”

“So maybe we can go Sunday night? I’ll take you someplace nice.”

“How are you going to find somewhere to go on such short notice?” Neville asked, perhaps a little frantically. “You can’t, can you?”

“I can. And I will. That’s just how good at the whole dating thing I am.” He winked. “You have my number, don’t you? I’ll text you the details over the weekend. See ya around, _King_.” With that, Mustafa hurried out of the locker room, leaving Neville alone to deal with the reality of what had just happened.

Sooner or later, he was going to learn to keep his big fucking mouth shut.

* * *

 A carnival. Of all the places that Mustafa could have chosen, he went with a fucking _carnival_.

“What are you, six years old?” Neville grumbled, refusing to look at Mustafa and instead opting to stare out of the window into the darkness of the night. “If you’re going to force me to go on a date with you, the least you could have done was taken me somewhere fancier.”

“Oh, pipe down,” Mustafa replied, pulling into a spot in the crowded parking lot. “This is great. And I hope you realize that it’s your own fault that this date is happening in the first place.”

“It’s not my fault! You were the one that made the bet.”

“And _you_ were the one that accepted it. You could have easily ignored me, y’know.”

“A King never backs down from a challenge.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re stuck at this carnival with me.” Mustafa undid his seatbelt, opening the car door. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“If you say so…” Neville was about to open his own door, but Mustafa stopped him by grabbing his arm. “What?”

“Wait there.” Without offering another word, Mustafa left the car.

Neville blinked. “The fuck is he…?” He wondered aloud as he watched Mustafa go around to his side, and he rolled his eyes once he realized what he was about to do. “Not today,” he said, locking the door right as Mustafa was about to open it for him and leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” Mustafa’s voice was muffled through the glass, and Neville let out a dry chuckle when he saw the annoyed look on his face. “Can you ever not be difficult?”

“Stop trying to act like such a typical gentleman,” Neville replied. “I don’t need you to open the damn door for me. I can do it myself, thank you.” His joy was short lived, however, as before he knew it Mustafa had produced the car key from his pocket, and he used it to unlock the door.

“You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Shut up…”

Neville crossed his arms and lingered a few feet behind Mustafa as they made their way towards the brightly-lit boardwalk. _I’m too old for this shit…_ Neville thought to himself as he noticed the many children who were running about, excitedly going from booth to booth. “Don’t these kids have a bedtime? What are they doing out this late? On a Sunday night, no less. _God_ , this generation is doomed…”

“Okay, grandpa,” Mustafa teased, earning a glare from Neville in response. “So, what should we do first?”

Neville quickly jumped out of the way as a little girl stormed past him, barreling towards her mother. He scowled. “How about we go back to the hotel and stop wasting time here?”

Mustafa put a hand on his chest. “Goodness, Neville, I didn’t think you were the type that moved so quickly. At least let me treat you to a nice night out first.”

“You see that out there?” Neville asked, pointing out towards the ocean. “I will not _hesitate_ to shove your ass right in.”

“You wanna see me wet, huh? Hmm.”

“I’m not kidding, Ali.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mustafa looked around at all of the booths, grinning as one in particular seemed to catch his eye. “C’mere.”

“I’ll I’ve done so far tonight is follow you around. This isn’t much of a date!” Despite his gripes, Neville still followed. _I’ve been nearly run over by toddlers more times than I’ve had fun tonight…_ He thought, moving out of the way of yet another child as he raced with his friends.

The booth that they approached had milk bottles stacked up in the back, one unfortunate carnival goer paying the person running the booth even more money and receiving one more chance to win a prize for his girlfriend, who looked a little impatient, like she’d been standing there for awhile. “There,” Mustafa said, pointing at a white bear that was hanging among a sea of other plush toys in the back of the booth. Neville could see it was holding a heart with white words embroidered in it, but he couldn’t make out what it said. _Maybe that’s for the best_.

“What about it?” Neville shrugged.

“I’m gonna win it for you.”

“What? You are _not_.”

“I _am_.”

Neville noticed that the patron had walked away, no prize in hand. Any hope he’d been clinging onto that the man would stay there all night and keep Mustafa from playing this stupid game dissipated. “You seriously think you’re going to succeed where that guy failed?”

“I sure will. Just watch me.”

Neville rolled his eyes as Mustafa paid the booth runner, and he watched with narrowed eyes as he was handed three baseballs. Neville had played carnival games like these during his childhood, and he’d only won once -- he won a goldfish when he was eight. This was only after his attempts to win were well into the double digits. Could Mustafa really have better luck than him?

Neville chose to focus his attention anywhere else, the whole scene before him making him feel… odd, in a way that he couldn’t explain. _Why does he want to win me this damn bear, anyway?_ He thought, kicking at an empty soda can that had landed at his feet. _Does he really think it’s going to change my mind about this stupid date?_ As much as he told himself that he didn’t want the bear, he was more than a little curious to see if he could actually do it…

He caught sight of a cotton candy vendor standing not too far away, and he began to think. How long had it been since he last had some? He had no plans to get any now, but he couldn’t deny that he was a little tempted. Especially knowing that he could probably get Mustafa to pay for it--  
“Here.”

“What?” Neville snapped his head to look at Mustafa at the sound of his voice, and he saw that he was grinning widely, holding the stuffed bear he promised he would win. “Are you kidding me?!”

“I told you I could do it. It’s all yours.” Mustafa shoved the toy into Neville’s hands. “What are you gonna name it?”

Neville ran his thumbs along the soft fabric, swallowing. He could finally read the cursive words that were written on the heart -- “I love you”. He didn’t like the way his heart was now pounding. “You…” Neville started, frowning. “You made a deal with the guy running the stand, didn’t you?”

Mustafa’s brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“While I wasn’t looking, you made a deal, right? That’s the only way you could have won this stupid bear. Tell me, how much did you pay him?”

“I paid only the price to play.”

“You’re lying. There’s no way you won this fairly.”

“I did, though! It was easy.”

“Was it?” Neville forced the bear back into Mustafa’s hands and dug around in his pocket, taking out his wallet. “We’ll see about that.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to win _you_ a bear. One of the bigger ones, in fact. And I’m going to do it fairly.”

Mustafa looked like he wanted to argue back, but it was too late, as Neville was already approaching the vendor. Mustafa instead let out a sigh, shaking his head fondly. “You got this! Show ‘em how the King does it!” He said.

“Hush.” Neville hissed back. He didn’t need Mustafa’s encouragement -- he was going to win this bear all on his own.

* * *

 “The deal you made involved rigging the game so that I couldn’t win it, right?”

Mustafa chuckled, leaning forward against the railing on the boardwalk and looking over to Neville. “What would ever make you say that?”

“There’s no other explanation for why I failed so miserably.” Neville was staring out at the ocean, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Maybe you’re just not that good?”

“Real charming, Ali. Just insult the person that’s supposed to be your date for the evening.”

“I wasn’t finished talking, King. What I was gonna say is that if you’d like, I can help you practice. That’d mean you gotta come on another date with me, though.”

“You _wish_ you were so lucky.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound being that of the waves crashing onto the shoreline. On a regular night, Neville might have actually felt relaxed, the ocean never failing to help him calm down. His current circumstances were making that difficult. Mustafa was standing next to him -- _too close_ for Neville’s liking, their elbows brushing against each other. Neville knew that he should probably take a step over, give himself some much-needed space, but… he _didn’t_. As odd as this felt, he couldn’t bring himself to abandon it.

Why had he started feeling this way around Mustafa? The two of them had hated each other ever since Neville first arrived on 205 Live, and nothing had changed over the last year. Neville found him to be absolutely detestable, and he took every match opportunity that he could if it meant getting one over on him. The thought of going on a date with him was the farthest thing from his mind, it was enough to make him sick.

Now that the date was actually happening and they had spent some one-on-one time together, it was a different story. Neville wouldn’t go as far as to say that he _liked_ Mustafa, but he found himself… not minding his presence as much as he did before. If he had his way he’d be in his hotel room right about now, but being here with him wasn’t the end of the world.

“It’s getting kinda late.” Neville heard Mustafa say. “We should probably leave soon.”

“Aww, over so soon? Here I was having such a _blast_ ,” Neville replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“Don’t mean to spoil your fun, King.” Mustafa pursed his lips. “Hey, so there was one more thing I wanted to do before we left…”

“And that is?”

“I spotted something by back the entrance that I thought we could do.”

“Please don’t tell me to follow you again. I’ve heard that more times that I can count tonight.”

Mustafa frowned at him, crossing his arms. “Can I get you to do it just one more time?”

Neville sighed, rolling his eyes. “I guess I don’t have any other choice.”

“Great!” Mustafa suddenly took hold of Neville’s hand, and Neville’s eyes widened as Mustafa started to lead him. _Why does he have to hold my hand for this?!_ Perhaps what was even more disturbing was the fact that Neville didn’t pull his hand away…

After that brief moment of panic, Neville realized that they were both standing in front of a photobooth. Mustafa finally let go of Neville’s hand, clasping both of his behind his back and looking at Neville almost expectantly. “Well? You up for it?” He asked.

Neville grimaced, moving the curtain back and seeing just how little space there was inside. “Are we even going to fit?”

“Of course we are. These things were made to fit at least two people.”

Mustafa being pressed up against him was the last thing that Neville needed in that moment. “If you want to do it, shouldn’t we do it separately? Who says we need to do it together?”

Mustafa frowned. “The whole _point_ is to take it together. It’ll only be a few seconds. I promise.”

“Well…” _I can handle a few seconds_ . “Fine. But we’re only doing this _once_.”

“One time is all I need.”

Neville entered the booth first, sliding inside and leaving Mustafa with enough room to climb in next to him. Neville stared down at his lap as Mustafa fiddled with the machine, each second that passed feeling like years. “I thought you said this would only be a few seconds, Ali.”

“Patience is a virtue, King.” Mustafa finally settled back in the seat. “There we go. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be…”

Neville jumped as Mustafa put his arm around him right as the first photo was taken, and he cursed himself, knowing that his face was going to be ridiculous. _Not even five seconds in and already I’ve fucked up._

For the second photo, Neville scowled, crossing his arms. Mustafa’s arm was still around him, and Neville could only guess that he was just _beaming_ . _If there’s anything this man loves, it’s having his photo taken_ . Neville made the mistake of going on Mustafa’s Instagram once -- in the midst of all the fanart, almost every other photo he saw was of him smiling. _It’s like he doesn’t know how to take photos of anything else._

Neville kept up his stoic demeanor for the third photo. Only one more left to go -- how was it possible that this was going so quickly, yet so slow at the same time? He’d felt like he’d been there for an eternity, but they were already on the final photo.

And just as the final photo was taken, Neville felt Mustafa kiss his cheek.

Neville was grateful that the shock set in after the photo was taken, otherwise his expression in the image would have been comical -- his mouth had dropped open, eyes wide as saucers, face as red as the heart of the bear that Mustafa had won him, which had just been unceremoniously tossed at Mustafa’s retreating figure. “What was that all about?!” Neville asked, fists clenched as he clamoured out of the booth after him.

“What?” Mustafa picked up the bear that had fallen on the ground. “It’s a _date_ , Neville. I had to kiss you at least once.” He shrugged.

“You-- Why did you--” He was sputtering. “WHY?”

“I just told you why. You’re my date for the evening.” He handed the bear over, waiting for Neville to take it.

Neville swallowed hard as he looked at it, almost splitting his lip due to how hard he was chewing on it. Was that the whole reason why Mustafa asked to take the photos? Had he been planning on kissing him, or was it a spur of the moment decision? Even worse -- why did Neville want it to happen _again_?

“I’m going back to the car,” Neville grumbled and stormed off, leaving Mustafa and hopefully these unsettling feelings behind him.

* * *

 The ride home was forgettable, which was probably for the best. Neville kept his mouth shut from the moment that Mustafa returned to the car all the way until they reached the hotel. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him — not after what had happened. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but he didn’t care.

No matter how many times Neville tried to forget about it, it was impossible. He was laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint sound of an infomercial coming from the television. There was no limit to the amount of things he could think about — work, what he was going to have for breakfast in the morning, literally _anything._

And yet, all he could focus on was how he could still feel Mustafa’s lips on his cheek.

He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face into his pillow. Things had been so much simpler before he went on this fucking date. He knew that it was his own damn fault that he felt this way — he could have easily just left Mustafa along and not provoked him, but he didn’t. Now, here he was, regretting everything and wondering why he opened his mouth in the first place.

He wasn’t supposed to have fun that night. He’d been dreading this date ever since it first became official. He had told himself that it was going to be torture. He never considered that the opposite might happen, that there would be a little part of him that wanted to spend even more time with Mustafa.

Did he actually have a crush on him? Christ, just _thinking_ about that possibility was enough to make Neville feel as if there were a thousand butterflies in his stomach. It was impossible -- he had disliked him for so long, for over a damn year! It didn’t make any sense that after spending a few hours together, everything would change. One night out, teddy bear, and smooch on the cheek later, Neville’s entire view on Mustafa had changed.

He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

Neville’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door, and his head shot up. Did Mustafa follow him back to his room? No, he wouldn’t have, would he? Neville made it clear that he didn’t want to be bothered the rest of the night. Mustafa wouldn’t try to talk to him after the display he put on.

Slowly, Neville stood up, creeping towards the door. He took a look through the peephole, holding his breath. Interestingly enough, there was no one out there, the only thing he saw being that of the closed door of the room across from his. Did he imagine the knock?  
Going against his better judgement, Neville decided to unlock the door, warily poking his head outside. Looking both ways, he discovered that there was truly no one around, the only sounds being that of his own breathing. _I’ve had a long night…_ Neville decided. _I’m just hearing shit._

He froze right as he was about to close the door, as he’d caught sight of something sitting on the floor.

The teddy bear.

“What the fuck--” Neville hissed through gritted teeth, looking around once again and ensuring that no one was around before gently picking the toy up. He quickly retreated back into his room, relocking the door and going back to the bed. In the excitement that followed the kiss, he’d completely forgotten that he’d even won this damn thing. Neville knew that he should just get rid of it, but something was keeping him from doing so. _He won this for me. He actually put the effort into getting it, just so that I could have it._ Neville wasn’t sure if it would be right to get rid of something that Mustafa had worked so hard for--

“Fuck!” Before he could stop himself, Neville suddenly tossed the bear down on the bed, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his face on them. _No. No. NO._ He actually gave a shit about a gift from Mustafa. He would feel guilty about getting rid of it. This hesitance cannot mean _anything_ good.

Just as Neville was about to kick the bear onto the floor, he caught sight of something under the ribbon that was around its neck. _Was that ribbon there before?_ Looking closer, he saw that there was a folded up note. Confused, he reached for it.

_Hey King,_

_Sorry about the kiss. I shouldn’t have done it without asking first. Figured you would still want the bear, but if you don’t then I totally understand. Hopefully you and I are cool._

_~Moose_

_P.S.: I have two copies of the photobooth pics from tonight. If for whatever reason you want yours, lemme know. :)_

Neville blinked down at the paper, gripping it tightly. He gave enough of a shit about Neville to actually write him an apology? And what’s with the smiley face on the end? And why did he find himself wanting to see the pictures that they took together? Neville huffed and shoved the note back under the bear’s ribbon.

This was bad. _Very_ bad. He knew that by asking for the photos, that was practically admitting that he was interested in Mustafa. If he still hated him, then he shouldn’t want to see any photos of him -- least of all one that featured him kissing his fucking cheek. And yet, he wanted to see them so _badly_. He wanted to see what they would look like together, to see if they would make him feel the same way he did when he first got the bear, when they were watching the waves together.

Neville’s curiosity was going to be his downfall one day, he knew it.

“Fuck it.” Neville sighed. He was too tired to think clearly. He had a show tomorrow, and he couldn’t afford to spend one more minute worrying over these bullshit feelings. Sleeping was more important.

He was about to lay back down in bed when he realized that the bear was still sitting at the foot of it. He grabbed hold of it and reared to throw it across the room, but he stopped, instead feeling his grip tighten on it. _Son of a bitch…_ He brought the bear down and held it to his chest, flopping back down.

As much as Neville claimed he hated that night, he couldn’t deny that spending time with Mustafa definitely changed some of his opinions. _Maybe he’s okay at the dating thing after all._

**Author's Note:**

> The next and final part of this series will be April Fools' Day!! (I'm counting it as a holiday because Why Not)


End file.
